


I Think This Time Around I Am Gonna Do It

by Anonymous



Series: Life After Derry- Out and Proud [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Coming Out, Eddie Kaspbrak & Stanley Uris Live, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, Losers Club Group Chat, M/M, Pride
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-31 14:21:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21147149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Richie goes to Pride for the first time, and it is an unexpectedly emotional experience.





	I Think This Time Around I Am Gonna Do It

"I mean, this is your thing." Richie says, for the hundredth time.

Eddie has... well, not _surprised_ him, no. Eddie's always been the brave one. Richie has always cared about protecting his friends, and protecting Eddie more than the rest, but he's never been _brave_, particularly. Eddie, though... Eddie left his wife from his hospital bed, moved in with Richie, they discussed their feelings, discussed the need to take things slow because Richie wasn't a rebound and they both had their own shit to sort through, then they immediately went back on that so that they could share Richie's bed and sleep curled around each other the way they used to during sleepovers-- not for the same lack of space, but it made them feel more secure, after everything. And Eddie had said he was going to get involved in the Gay Community, and...

Richie had thought it was unnecessary. There were drag ball societies and gay men's choruses and neither of those sounded like him, there were bars he didn't want to go to-- that he isn't ready to be photographed in. He isn't really out yet, except to the Losers. He's still working through his necessary shit so that he can take that step. Preferably without hugely freaking out about it. But... he's never done any of that stuff and he's been fine, he doesn't need to go to bars when he has Eddie, he's not into drag, he definitely won't be asked to join a chorus, he doesn't need Eddie's support group... Sure, he came from a homophobic town and that messed him up, he got bullied and traumatized and the trauma stuck around even when he didn't have his memories, but... Eddie was raised to view sex as dirty enough, and sex with men and the men who had it as _diseased_. And hell-bound, but the diseased part was always scarier. Richie had grown up afraid of persecution from outside, outside of a few moments during puberty when he worried maybe looking at a friend that way made him a creep or a monster. He thinks that's universal, though, it's part of suddenly having hormones and being around other people who are suddenly having hormones. Everyone's a creep at thirteen once or twice and most people grow out of it. Eddie's the one who was raised to hate and fear himself.

Eddie is super involved in the local community, and Richie knows that once he's ready to be out, he'll accompany Eddie any time he's asked, but... it's not his thing.

They've agreed to go to San Francisco for Pride. It's one of those very gay cities, and it's far enough from home that it feels safer somehow, even if Richie is just as famous nine hours from home as he is downtown. And Eddie is excited, and so Richie is a little excited, but he doesn't really get the point, he's always found parades to be kind of boring. He figures they'll go for a little bit, get tired, and go to a restaurant or some shit. Maybe one of the museums on Eddie's list of things to see in the city.

"And I appreciate you coming." Eddie says, also for the hundredth time, in a tone that strongly implies there's an unvoiced 'asshole' on the end of that sentence. But like... in a fond way. In an Eddie way.

Richie is just wearing his normal clothes. Which, to be fair, his shirt is colorful enough. Eddie, though... Eddie dressed up for this. Eddie looks good enough to eat. Eddie's got the tiniest pair of shorts he has ever owned on, with the words 'ARE YOU NASTY' printed across the back. Socks with rainbow stripes up around the tops, not just tube socks but socks that come up just past his _knees_, that he ordered online for this particular event. And the piece de resistance, he is wearing a tour shirt that he did not have to steal from Richie. A shirt from Richie's _first_ tour, from before the ghostwriters, a shirt he admitted he used to sleep in, before Myra, who believed he'd thrown it out, he'd admitted he couldn't bring himself to throw it out and he didn't really know why.

It hadn't been much of a tour. It hadn't covered a lot of ground. But it had been enough to get him noticed, to get him a spot on a late show doing some of his material, and to get him... well, to get him hooked up with a ghostwriter, because his material was hard to connect to-- a lot of it was about having retrograde amnesia, with a side of dick jokes-- but he was good.

The fact that Eddie has that shirt is really doing things to him.

And then they get to Pride itself, and it turns out Pride is really doing things to him, too.

"Oh." He says, his voice uncharacteristically soft. Almost inaudible over the crowd. "There-- there's a lot of people."

"Yeah, dude, it's Pride in San Francisco, there are a lot of people." Eddie laughs, pulling his phone out of his fanny pack-- one that says 'MAKE AMERICA GAY AGAIN', which he'd bought from the Human Rights Campaign. He texts the rest of the Losers a picture of the two of them, Eddie smiling into the camera and Richie looking slightly lost over his shoulder.

"Like... a lot of people. Like, there might be as many people doing this as there are living in Derry."

"More, I think. Rich?"

"This is just a lot." His voice trembles, and he hates it, and he hates the way his eyes are stinging, but Eddie's focus narrows in on him, Eddie's face goes soft.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"Do you need to sit down?"

"No, I'm fine. I, um... I've never... There are so many fucking gay people in one place, it's a _lot_. Like I think you could count the number of queers in Derry on one hand, and look at all this. Okay, I don't even know what all those flags _mean_, but there are a lot of them, and I-- I never thought I'd _be_ here."

"You are here. And I'm really glad you came with me." Eddie touches his arm, brief and gentle. "Come on. Let's look around."

It's more than he'd imagined. A lot of music, a lot of dancing, a lot of flags, a lot of... well, a lot. And there's food, which is nice-- Eddie buys him an ice cream, the smile on his face incandescent as their hands brush over the cone. Every time Richie thinks he's used to this and he's okay, he remembers that literal blocks are packed with people who are not straight, or who are there to support the people they care about who aren't straight, and he cries a little, he keeps crying a little. Eddie keeps making this face, this 'you're adorable' face that Richie is usually the one to make, and he's half tempted to complain that he's not a toddler, because every time he struggles not to just bawl, Eddie is buying him an ice cream or a colorful little flag or a soda or a giant rainbow lollipop... but he kind of likes it. And he knows Eddie would be all over him if he wasn't trying to respect that Richie is taking his time in coming out, and he _is_ famous, and as far as anyone is supposed to know, he's only here supporting his very gay, recently-divorced friend and roommate. He's a little tempted to say 'fuck it' and hold Eddie's hand, but he doesn't want to ever regret that, and he can't be sure yet that he won't. Yeah, everyone here will support them, but he's supposed to not just think about the moment, he's supposed to consider the consequences, he's supposed to be careful and plan this out. And maybe talk to his agent before he pulls the trigger on coming out.

Still. It's just a lot. And he kind of wants to dance with Eddie, when there's music he likes. Wants it to not be a joke when he does. He'd also like for other guys to stop trying to dance with Eddie, but there's not really any chance of that. Not with how good he looks, and definitely not with the way he'd been eating his own ice cream... And it had gotten even worse when he'd asked for a lick of Richie's lollipop instead of just getting his own, he had gone to _town_ on it, every man in a fucking ten foot radius must come up to talk to him after that. And Richie gets it, like... he's not... He's not hideous or anything, but he's dressed like a barbecue dad more than he's dressed like the other gay guys in hawaiian shirts, he doesn't look like he's _with_ Eddie even when Eddie is literally fellating his lollipop, _while he holds it for him_. Eddie politely declines any invitations, which Richie trusts him to do, Richie never for a moment thinks Eddie would flirt with someone else, but even so. It makes him wish he could be sure about just being out already, makes him wish he could just hold him without thinking about his career, kiss him in front of all these people.

Next year, he tells himself. Next year he's going to do this as Eddie's boyfriend-- no. As Eddie's fiance, at least, maybe as his husband.

They'll have to do Pride in bursts, he thinks-- Eddie's recovery is something he knows is going to take literal years, and even though he's in good shape and he can do shit, he still needs to take breaks and rest rather than spend all day on his feet in the heat and the crowds. But before, he'd thought they'd look at a little bit of parade and just go back to the hotel, and now he has a sense of just how much stuff there is.

Eddie has sent the Losers pictures of everything-- the crowds, the ice cream, Richie holding his ice cream, his own bright grin, signs and costumes he likes. Richie also keeps tabs on the responses, but he can't seem to ever type anything himself. He wants to say he is also enjoying himself, he wants to say this is so much more meaningful than he was expecting it to be, but he can't put it into tiny little letters on his phone, it all slips away from him, and everything... everything is so _much_, everyone around them is so...

"Eds..."

Eddie turns from whatever he'd been capturing with his camera, training it on Richie instead, thumb hovering over the button. "Rich?"

"I don't know how to say it." He shrugs, can't really spread his arms to encompass the everything-ness of it all. "I don't know what to say to everyone."

"You can tell them later. When we take a break." Eddie promises. He slips his phone back into his fanny pack, and just briefly, he slips his hand into Richie's. Just long enough for a single squeeze. "I'm going to need one soon."

"Overheating, baby?"

"A little." He nods. "Getting too much sun."

"Come on. We'll come back when the sun starts going down. We can see enough from our hotel, watch out the window for a while."

Eddie's amenable, and the hotel is close, and they really do have a great view-- when they get back to the room, Eddie snaps a few pictures through the window to send to the group, before he strips down for a lukewarm shower and a naked sprawl on their bed.

"Maybe talking would be easier." Richie sighs, sprawling out next to him. Close enough to touch a little, the both of them in nothing but towels, hair damp. Wet and in a towel is a good look on Eddie, and the fact that he feels comfortable enough not to throw a shirt back on over his scar speaks volumes. Richie reaches out, tracing his fingers over it, gentle. "I'm good at running my mouth, better than I am when I try to write shit down."

"You want to wait for the next call?" Eddie's hand covers his, presses it over his heart. The Losers are scattered across time zones, they schedule regular group video calls, but it would mean not sharing in the immediacy of the experience to wait, and Richie understands in a way he doesn't think either of them could put words to, why that thought creases Eddie's brow.

"I don't know. No. Just film me talking and send it."

"Put a shirt on."

"They've all seen me without a shirt--"

"Patricia hasn't. Wait, has she?"

She'd visited them with Stan, when he came to see how Eddie was settling in at Richie's place, the two of them still self-consciously hiding their respective scars. Richie had worn a tee shirt in the swimming pool out of solidarity with Eddie.

"It doesn't matter, it's my shoulders, dude. No one's going to know I'm in a towel."

"Your hair is wet." Eddie argues.

"They'll assume I'm in a bathing suit, then. Or pajamas. I'm not putting on a shirt because we're just going to cuddle naked once we're done, don't pretend you won't."

Eddie rolls his eyes, but he grabs his phone just the same, and Richie moves to sit in front of the window to be filmed.

"Hey, Losers!" He beams, but he can already feel his eyes getting wet again, his throat getting tighter. "I'm at Pride with Eddie, which you know, but-- _fuck_, so there are... definitely more people at this thing than there are living in our hometown, and I've literally never been surrounded by so many gay people, and everyone is having such a good time, and okay, you are not allowed to make fun of me for crying right now, I-- I never thought this was going to be a _thing_, you know? Back when we were kids, I couldn't... I was so fucking scared of this, of anyone knowing, I couldn't even tell _you_, and now... I'm having a blast at my first Pride, with my first love. Okay, cut, cut, I'm a mess."

He is, he's fucking blubbering, but Eddie's on him once he's hit send on the video, dragging him back to bed and drying his tears, kissing him long and tender... Richie tugs Eddie's towel out of the way, grinning, and Eddie makes himself at home on top of him, straddling his thighs and sprawling across his chest, a welcome weight.

He makes the world easier to bear.

It's a little less easy to bear, when after a nap, Richie finds a message from his agent asking him about the viral clip and what he wants to do about it-- the clip in question is him, just that morning, saying 'There are so many fucking gay people in one place, it's a _lot_. Like I think you could count the number of queers in Derry on one hand, and look at all this. Okay, I don't even know what all those flags _mean_, but there are a lot of them', and of course there's a headline about how he's been caught being a big ol' homophobe outside of Pride, and that puts a fucking damper on his weekend.

He shows Eddie, wordless, and feels a little better when Eddie fumes on his behalf-- maybe not 'better', but... but it means he's not overreacting or being stupid, to be upset.

_That clip of #RichieTozier outside SF Pride is taken out of context_, Eddie tweets.

_what contxt_, someone tweets back at him within seconds, and reading over his shoulder, Richie isn't sure whether he's more bothered by the whole 'boyfriend labeled a homophobe' situation or the spelling and grammar...

"Babe..." Richie's hand rests at the small of Eddie's back. "Do it."

"Do it?"

"End the fucker." He smiles. "I'm ready."

And he is-- this isn't a knee jerk reaction, he realizes, this is the earlier euphoria finally settling into an easier acceptance, an easier confidence. Sure, he's pissed off, but he's had half the day to really think about how he feels, and what he's motivated by. And he's spent that day motivated by the pride and acceptance, and just thinking about it makes him feel like it's a little too corny, but...

_@KyleT85 He's literally my boyfriend, he's not a homophobe._

Most of the blowing up that Eddie's twitter does after that is people calling bullshit, though Bill and Ben both like the tweet immediately, and Bev even reblogs it with a bunch of emojis.

_@RealBillDenbrough you should be writing, for shame_, Richie tweets, having grabbed his own phone. _I saw you on twitter liking things_.

_@TrashmouthTozier sorry, it's just because I'm stalking your boyfriend_

"Video?" Eddie asks. Richie nods. Eddie posts his emotional ramble to Twitter. 

At the same time, Richie gets a picture of the two of them lying in bed together, bare-chested and with their hair a mess from air-drying while they napped, Eddie tucked against his chest.

_Yes @EKaspbrak is my boyfriend, yes the video was out of context, yes I'm AT Pride, yes I'm gay. PS my man is cuter than yours_, he writes.

_@TrashmouthTozier not cuter than mine, bitch_, Eddie tweets back, grinning.

"You romantic, you." Richie drops his phone and rolls Eddie over, kissing his neck. "You're reveling in your newfound freedom."

"To talk about how cute you are on twitter? Yeah. I'm gonna be doing this a lot. Text your agent."

"I'm busy." Richie says, words smothered into one shoulder, hands traveling over Eddie's torso.

"You need to tell your agent you... handled the situation."

"You handled it, really. I'll text him later."

Eddie sighs, and reaches for Richie's phone, unlocking it-- and if Richie hadn't wanted him to be able to, he wouldn't have made his password 6969, as he's said often enough. And Richie has to admit, it is more convenient for him if Eddie can just open it when he needs to.

"Steve... Richie handled the situation on twitter... he is not a homophobe... but if he loses a bunch of fans... they probably are. Signed, Eddie." He says, struggling to get the text sent while Richie continues to lavish attention on him. He twists away a little, using Richie's phone to snap a picture of the crumpled clothes on the floor by the bed-- standing out among them, his tour shirt.

_Get you a man who literally wears your face on his body when he goes to Pride_, he tweets, before surrendering the phone when Richie grabs for it to read over the sent tweet.

"Okay, it's a little unfair that you're making better tweets on my account than I usually do. Hey, next time some guy checks out your ass and proceeds to tell you he can be nasty, tell him he's not as nasty as your boyfriend. Tell him you're fucking the guy on the shirt."

"You are nasty." Eddie laughs. "Definitely nastier than strange men at Pride."

"I'm nasty at a professional level."

"I'd ask you to do something nasty to me, but knowing you, you'd do something actually nasty and, like... stick your tongue in my ear."

"You draw the line at your _ear_? Eddie, my tongue's been in your _ass_."

"Yeah, but you lay down a barrier to eat ass." Eddie huffs, looking away.

Richie does, every time, but he thinks Eddie's hygiene routine is such that he doesn't have to, necessarily. He'd kind of like to just go for it sometime, know the taste of him, but he respects Eddie's squeamishness.

"Speaking of, I know you have the free dental dams someone was handing out in your fanny pack. You want me to? A little fun before we go back out there?"

Eddie doesn't say yes right away, but Richie knows the look on his face. He scrambles out of bed to grab for the fanny pack. He can deal with the fallout from coming out later.


End file.
